


A Strangely Precious Thing

by DamnthatGeko



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Fix-It of Sorts, M/M, Pining, cannon typical swearing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-13
Updated: 2017-08-14
Packaged: 2018-07-14 18:05:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 6,627
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7184579
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DamnthatGeko/pseuds/DamnthatGeko
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He hadn’t seen it coming. Maybe that was why it hurt so badly. It ached in his chest, heavy and tender.This was worse than physical pain, worse than the cold and edge-close oblivion of his brush with death when fighting Rimefang. Percival Frederickstein Von Musel Kowalski De Rolo III is certainly not immune to heartbreak.</p><p>*Completed/Discontinued*</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Precious

**Author's Note:**

> I guess this Fic is best described as what I wanted (as a Vax/Percy shipper) out of the Whitestone arc.

He hadn’t seen it coming. Maybe that was why it hurt so badly. It ached in his chest, heavy and tender. This was worse than physical pain, worse than the cold and edge-close oblivion of his brush with death when fighting Rimefang. This development must have been recent. Percival would have never missed it before… before the Briarwoods traveled to Emon.

… Oh. That must have been when. He must have been so consumed by the pain of old memories and the overwhelming drive of vengeance that he missed this. This… thing. This strangely precious thing that had started long ago in the Underdark.

It had simply nagged at him at first. A little pull at the bottom of his heart, sparked by a casual brush of lips and a strange flip flop in his chest. Percy had never forgotten it. …but _he_ had.

Or at least he seemed to, for he never mentioned it again. Everything was normal. At least, Percy tried to pretend it was. It wasn’t hard at first. It had been a small thing. A sudden leap in his chest when a hand was placed on his shoulder, an expert feat of acrobatics, a glance, or a roguish smile in his direction. But it didn’t stop there. Soon the gentle pull became a tug. It was both exhilarating and frightening.

As the strangely precious thing that had found its way into his heart grew, so did their adversaries. Percy found his mind had less and less time to dedicate to anything but the duties of Vox Machina. The Slayers Take had challenged them all beyond what they had thought feasible. Percy thought he would have a moment when they were back in Emon to sit down and puzzle this… thing out.

Then news of the Briarwoods came and Percy had no room for anything in his head as gentle as what resided in his heart. Everything transformed into smoke, blood, black powder, and steel. His world revolved around the white, hot burning star of vengeance.

Leading up to the feast. After the feast. Preparing for travel to Whitestone. Arriving at Whitestone. Burning the mansions. Killing the people on his list. Cassandra; alive. His mind was a whirl of smoke and hate and blood. In hindsight it was painful to see how easily he could have missed this. How easily he could have been prepared. Always be prepared.

As Vax hobbled over to Keyleth, his eyes seemed to alight on Percy for a moment. And those dreadful, terrible, terrifying, wonderful, amazing, lovely words came spilling out of his mouth.

“You know I’m in love with you right?”

And for a moment. Percy thought Vax was talking to him. He knew what that strangely precious thing, living in his heart was. In that moment he knew what to say. He knew that that small thing had become something strong. Something powerful and unbreakable. And it had a name.

It beat wild and deliriously happy in that moment. This precious, perfect thing called…

Vax kissed Keyleth.

Oh.

Percy was sure that the world went gray for a moment. A long agonizing moment where the buoyant bubble in his heart froze and fell, twisting his insides as it did. And he couldn’t help but cough into his hand as hard as he could. It was better than crying. The raw, irritation in his throat was better than the pain in his chest.

There were tears in the corners of his eyes whether from coughing or from the aching in his chest he couldn’t tell anymore.

Keyleth pushed Vax back, breaking their contact, but it was the look that he gave her as she did so that made Percy turn away.

It hurt. It was too heavy. How could he have missed this? How could he have let himself hope vainly for even a moment? If he hadn’t hoped, he wouldn’t be sitting here in Whitestone pursuing his vengeance with Cassandra alive mere meters away and a strangely precious, broken flutter in his heart.


	2. Final

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one's very short, the next one will be much longer.

“Don't.”

Whack

“Go.”

Whack

“Into rooms.”

Whack

“By yourself.”

Whack

“Goddamn it!”

The handful of Vex’s blue fletched arrows fell to the floor from Percival’s hand. They hit the ground at Vax’s boots with a finality that was… unexpected. The arrow tips sparked off the stone, clattering loudly before lying still.

“No, he had a knife, he had a knife and was going to kill her...” Vax pleaded, reaching out an entreating hand to him.

Percy, his face strangely ruddy under his pale hair, swatted his hand aside and raised his own, jabbing emphatically into the empty air in Vax’s direction. “Yes, thank you, but count to ten next time!”

Percy turned on his heel and left, faint wisps of black smoke trailing behind him like a dark cloud. Vax stared after him. His eyes had been red and watery. Had he been…? No. Whitestone was getting to them. Percy hadn't been crying had he?

“Uh-hum. I'll just - excuse me.” Keyleth shifted from foot to foot, awkwardly shuffling towards the exit after Percy. She stopped just past the threshold, next to him where he was crouched over Cassandra.

For a moment, Vax was alone in the small stone office. Well, things could have definitely gone better. Vax pulled his hand away from his newly healed side. It was sticky and red with coagulated blood. Well, he was most certainly replacing this shirt soon.

But not everything had gone badly. Vax’s other, clean, hand drifted up to his face. He rested his fingertips against his bottom lip. Second? Second time he kissed a woman? God. It had been a while, could he even remember the last time he had kissed someone? Oh, right. Percy. Better not think about that kettle of fish right now.

Especially when he could still feel her. His fingers trembling from the adrenaline of the battle…. and the kiss… 

She was so beautiful and brave. Especially in a fight, her red hair flying. Even now he could feel his heartbeat quicken. If he could feel this energy, this transfixed astonishment and admiration every moment of every day, he would be invincible.

This was like an epic romance taken out of the old story books. He had always had a flare for the dramatic and this sort of emotion suited him well. Vax had known the moment he woke, bloody and broken on the cool grass of the palace in Emon. He had felt this way ever since.

Vax moved his hand away from his face, and gazed at his rough, weathered palm. She was so perfect and he was quite the opposite. But he would do anything for her.

She hadn't rejected him after he kissed her.

Vax felt a grin split his face. She could make him smile without even being in the room. Back in high spirits, Vax left the bloodstained office, stepping around Percy and his sister who was now sitting upright. 

Vax clasped Percy on the shoulder as he passed. “What’cha Perce.” Perhaps he just needed a little cheering up, spread the happiness around a little.

With a jovial spring to his step, he headed up the corridor to join Vex.


	3. Fragile

Percival pressed the pads of his fingertips into the splintery end of the rough wooden table. Small slivers came away under the pressure and fell to the light snow that covered Whitestone like a delicate lace veil. The sun shone brightly through the pale branches of the Sun Tree, tracing delicate blue shadows over the snow and joyous citizens of Whitestone.  The Winter’s Crest festival was at full swing in the reinvigorated city. He inhaled the heady, thick smell of meat pies and the snap of fresh snow. The crowd moved before him where he stood at its edge, happy smiles lifting up faces that were unfamiliar to the expression. It was, in other words, a day to be happy.

Percy picked at the underside of the table with ragged, black stained finger nails. He could see his sister through the crowd, laughing at something out of sight. She looked so young, just as he’d remembered her for all those years when he thought she was dead. Her face was filled with mirth and life, the silver in her hair barely noticeable in the warm sunlight. This was perfect; happy people, light hearts and merriment.

A thin splinter found its way under his nail. “Ow!” He left the table alone.

Everything had gone more or less right in the past few days. There was still the matter of the ziggurat beneath the castle and Ripley’s escape, but besides that everything had turned out rather well. The Briarwoods were dead, Cassandra was alive and well, and he seemed to be alone in his head once more. A situation which he fully intended to maintain.

Yet, even surrounded by cheerful, if wan people, Percy could only summon enough happiness to plaster a small smile on the corners of his mouth. This thing. It was such a small and ultimately inconsequential upset in his life. It didn't merit this much stomach churning awareness when he should be focusing on celebrating. He was excruciatingly conscious of the Sun Tree behind him, it and the two people beneath. He shouldn't turn around.

As if the thought had been a key to the lock that bound him in place, he found himself swiveling against his better judgment. It was morbid curiosity in a way. Could he feel even worse than he had felt in Anders’ office?

Vax and Keyleth were standing close to each other, keyleth’s hand on the flakey, gray bark of the tree. As he watched, Vax reached over and covered her hand with his own.

Ah, well, he could feel about as bad.

Movement on the other side of the rough table proved a blessed distraction for a moment. Vex was frozen mid stride, whatever she had been intending to do forgotten, as she stared over Percy’s shoulder with a downward twist to her mouth. It was nice to know that he wasn't the only one unhappy about the turn of events, despite how unaltruistic the thought was. Vex glanced at him and made a gagging motion in the pair’s direction. Her smile dropped when she got a better look at his face. Percy wondered exactly how much she could read. A cold shiver crept up his neck at the thought of all his secrets laid bare before her sharp eyes.

“Come along Percy.” She reached out to him, almost but not quite beseeching.

He should go, pretend that this wasn't happening. That he didn't feel anything...  “I'm... I'm fine here thanks.” God, he was a masochist. He tried to smile reassuringly at her. The concern on her face spelled out his failure. He hoped she wouldn't press him, he didn't have an answer for himself let alone her.

“If you're sure.”  She moved off, still frowning and casting backwards glances at the couple.

They were talking now, in hushed voices. At ten yards, he couldn't hear what they were saying. Vax stepped closer, his eyes intense and Percy knew that his voice had dropped into the lower register, becoming impassioned and rough. Oh, but Percy found himself wanting that sound. It was such a strangely stupid thing to want. Something that he only seemed to warrant when he messed up enough for Vax to take notice.

Suddenly, Keyleth stepped back from Vax, her hands flying up to her head to twist in her hair. Her eyes closed for a moment as if she was warring with herself. Three words left her mouth and she pushed Vax aside and almost ran past Percy, back into the crowd, her feet leaving light prints in the snow.

What was that about? Was she alright? Percy glanced back at Vax where he still stood, eyes following the red head bobbing among the crowd. He looked as rooted to the spot as he was. Vax’s eyes met his for a moment and Percy’s stomach lurched as if missing a step. Did he know?

Vax’s gaze dropped to the snow. Percy found himself on his toes, he should stay here. But his feet moved anyway and if he was going to walk over to a dejected Vax then he'd might as well make the effort to seem casual. He definitely wasn’t jogging over there with bated breath hoping for the impossible.

Oh hell, he was going to do it anyway. He closed the gap perhaps a bit more quickly than necessary. “Vax? Did you- are you alright?”

“I don’t know” Vax murmured seemingly lost, his eyes darted back and forth from a patch of snow to Percy’s boots. Back and forth, back and forth, searching for something only he could perceive. His shoulders were slumped and his normally restless hands were still by his side. In short, he looked utterly miserable.

“What happened?”

Vax was quiet for a very long time before he spoke, eyes still restless and voice low and rough. “Happy Winter Crest’s Festival Percival. Go join your sister.” With a flutter of his dark cloak, Vax turned on his heel and almost ran out from underneath the bare branches of the Sun Tree. Percy watched as he disappeared into the crowd, dark head disappearing almost instantly once out of sight.

Suddenly, Percy felt decidedly more cheery. Although, it was tempered with the knowledge that it was supremely selfish. Shit. He really shouldn’t be happy that whatever they were talking about, and he was fairly sure that he knew exactly what it was, had gone sour between them. He really shouldn’t be hoping against a vain, thin, fragile hope that whatever Vax’s feelings, they were not returned in kind. But despite his determination to squash his rising good cheer, he could feel it feeding the fragile thing in his chest, slowly stitching itself back together. God, he was a terrible person.

 

***

Vax told him what happened under the Sun Tree the night before they left Whitestone. It was unexpected, sure Percy has asked if he was alright, but if Vax needed to discuss something important, it was always with Vex. Maybe it was the scathing looks she had been throwing him ever since the scene in Anders’ office.

“She doesn’t want anything to do with me.” What a conversation opener.

Percy hadn’t been able to sleep. It had never been uncommon for him to go several nights with only a few moments of rest, even before his dreams became filled with smoke, and screams, and blood, and the smell of black powder, acrid on the tip of his tongue. Before, it had been Percy’s restless mind that had kept him awake, he remembered sneaking along the freezing passages of Whitestone castle to the library where he would read by moonlight spilling in through the large arched windows deep into the night.

Tonights had been one of the dark, bloody variety. It had shaken him far more than it would have a few days ago. Then, he would have been fueled by his rage for the Briarwoods, he would have seen the nightmares as a mere consequence of Orthax’s deal. Now, it scared him. Was it back? Could it come back? Or was it just the residue of years of living with the shadow. He had felt vulnerable in his ignorance, exposed.

So he had continued with the tinkering he had started the day before. It was a distraction, and a useful one at that. It was at the point in the night when everything was cold and silent, when even those creatures that were active at night knew that quiet must predominate over the dark time. That was when Vax approached.

“What?” Percy dropped the bolt he was attempting to screw back in place on Ripley's gun. It bounced against the table he sat at and disappeared underneath it with a _ping!_ “Damn.”

“She…” Vax cleared his throat. “Keyleth doesn’t want anything to do with me. She said so. At the tree during the Winter’s Crest Festival.” He sounded miserable again, and he looked it too.

Percy hadn’t seen him much after the festival, only a few minutes here and there and he hadn’t seemed too distressed although he certainly hadn’t been happy either. Now, as Percy had a moment to study him, he could see how absolutely wretched he looked standing at the edge of the pool of light cast by the single taper on the table. His arms hung listlessly at his sides and he looked to be a bit more disheveled than usual, his cloak not on quite straight and one of his bracers wasn’t buckled right. He couldn’t seem to meet his gaze either, staring at the stone floor.

“Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t- I mean- I kind of saw that, it didn’t look like it went the way you planned.” He set the partially reassembled gun carefully down on the table and tuned in his seat to face Vax.

Vax snorted, almost humorously. “Yeah, it went exactly to plan. She said: I’m sorry, no. Then ran off.” Vax slapped his palm to his forehead suddenly looking pained. “I just thought I had a chance. I’m just- I don’t know. God. Are you going to get that?”

“Get what?”

Vax waved at the table. “The thing that fell, whatever it was.”

“Oh, the bolt. Yeah. Hang on.” Percy dived under the table, he should find the bolt fast. Whatever mood that Vax was in, he was willing to talk and he didn’t want him to clam up again. This way he would know what had happened. He felt satisfied that he had guessed right, that she had rejected him even though it was blatantly obvious. At the same time, Vax, standing dejected and heartbroken before him was heartbreaking in its own way.

It was dark under the table, he was only barely able to make out the stone beneath his hands as he patted over the surface searching for the bolt. Damn. Where was it? Wait, was that it? He squinted at the floor…. And felt his glasses slid off his nose. Percy swore only slightly louder than the clatter of his glasses on the stone.

“You alright under there Percival?” Vax sounded closer, although Percy couldn’t see him, everything had become a dark blur.

“Yes, I dropped my glasses. Damn, and I still can’t find the bolt.” Percy began patting the ground again, this time without any idea of where anything was. Nope, not there. Where were they? His glasses had fallen straight down for the love of Pelor, they should be right here!

Suddenly a light turned things into colored blurs and someone handed him his glasses. When he pushed the thick rims up onto his nose he could see Vax crouched under the table with him, taper in one hand, bolt in the other. He was smiling, it was small but nice to see.

“I found your little runaway.” He handed it over to Percy.

“Thanks,” he pocketed the bolt and clasped Vax on the shoulder, readying to crawl out from under the table. “I owe you.”

As though his touch was the final blow of a battering ram on the gate of a fortress, Vex’s expression crumpled.  He looked absolutely devastated again. If Percy didn’t know any better he would have thought that he was on the edge of tears.

“Vax, it’s-”

“I can’t say anything to Vex, she’s being a fucking ass right now. I’m sorry, and Keyleth-” Suddenly, he grabbed the back of Percy’s neck, eyes intense, focused and for a wild, heart stopping second Percy though Vax would kiss him.

“I just- I love her Percy. I love her so much and it’s hard to know that she doesn’t want me when I want to be with her so badly.” His voice broke at the end and he looked away, releasing him as he did so.

Perhaps it was possible to develop a resistance to having your heartbroken, because he remembered it hurting a lot more the first time. Or maybe he was lying to himself. Or maybe he had just known the futility of a strangely fragile flicker of hope. Maybe he knew all along that he was deluding himself. That Vax never loved by halves. Never did _anything_ by halves. It was all in or not at all, and it seemed that Percy had landed on the wrong side of the line.

It was so easy to break something fragile, therefore, when it eventually did, it was not surprising. He might as well face the truth, there was no way to piece this fragile thing back together again. He was better off leaving it broken, walking away before he was stuck carefully gluing his delusion of a snowball’s chance in hell back together. Besides, Vax didn’t need him to be mired in his own heart right now.

“I’m sorry,” he said quietly, reaching out and gripping Vax by the shoulders. Despite the pain, he meant it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Every time I go back and edit this chapter, I read "I owe you" as "I love you" because the outline of the words are so similar.


	4. Subtle

In the beginning….what a self-important way to start a story. In the beginning it had been easier. Well, perhaps "easier” wasn’t the right word, perhaps a better way to phrase it was that it was…. simpler to manage, to ignore.

***

Percival shifted against the damp wall. Everything was constantly wet in Stillben. He could feel the damp, dirty patches on the back of his simple tunic and trousers, clammy against his cold skin. Everything smelled of rot, rot like that found in an abandoned house, wood and old grain fermenting away in undisturbed peace. Like he was now. His jail cell was barely big enough to stretch out in, about two meters by one, fenced by walls of rough stone. The front wall was made of exactly twenty three heavily rusted bars. The door, he was sure, had rusted shut since he had been thrown in here a fortnight earlier. Orange flakes of oxidized metal littered the muddy ground, a sad testament to his unsuccessful escape attempts.

The shuffling and muttering began again. It seemed to be coming from a long way off. It was probably just the warden, passing by twice a day as she usually did. Odd though, she was very early.

“Psst! Hey!”

Percy jolted, scrambling to his feet in a second. Who the hell was that? Oh, there was a figure crouching outside his cell, low to the ground and to the side; hiding. Cautiously, Percy approached. He couldn’t make out much about the individual, only that they were clothed in a cloak and hood of some kind.

“Hello?” Percy whispered back.

“Shhh, keep it down. Who are you?” Their voice was low and rough.

“My name is Percival Fredrickstein Von Musel Klossowski De Rolo III,” he paused a moment seeing the glint of amusement and confusion in the eyes beneath the hood. “You –you can call me Percy. I was put here by a very bad women, someone who shouldn’t have had the power to do so… but it seems that she has more influence than I originally thought.”

A second figure appeared next to the first, this one without a hood. Percy could make out the vague shape of a bow on their back.

“Why are you in here?” The second figure questioned, and Percy could hear the familiar ring of command in it. He had a creeping suspicion that they could read his very thoughts by just looking at him. It was better to be honest then dance around the question in this instance.

Percy took a step closer to the bars, now only a hand span away. He could feel the wet ground beneath his feet ooze between his toes as he worked to find the words. “I- my family was killed by some terrible people…” This was harder than he expected. “They killed my mother, my father, my sisters and my brothers… and this woman _helped_ them. I just…. I just want to even the score.”

“What will you do if we let you out?” The first figure’s voice was softer than before, laced with sympathy and passion, they believed him. Percy suddenly realized that he might just have an ally in this mysterious person. After all this time, he would have an ally in this. Here, in this terrible, backwater town, in a festering swap, standing in a cell, stripped of all his gear. Oh! The irony!

He laughed. “Breakfast, I’d really like some breakfast.”

The second figure laughed along with him, elbowing the first who seemed annoyed, “Ok, we can do that. Grog?”

There were more figures now, making a lot more noise. Some of them were so small they could only be gnomes or halflings, others looked about the size of the first two, others -Oh sweet Pelor!

With a nasty screech of twisting and breaking metal and a wild spray of rust, the door was ripped out of the wall and flung to the side. Percy fell back with an undignified squawk, throwing his arms up to protect his face from flying shrapnel. He landed hard on his ass with a spatter of swamp earth. Goddam it.

A chorus of “Grog!” came from the other six figures and Percy heard the second one say scathingly, “Not your most subtle work, Grog dear.” The huge figure seemed to shrug but it was hard to tell in the dim light.

“We should get out of here,” a high, soft voice said. It was from one of the new figures who seemed to be looking all about wildly for the guards.

“They won’t be back here for a bit,” The first figure helped him to his feet and Percy straightened his tunic, brushing it off as he did. “They come every three hours, we should be safe for a little while,” There really hadn’t been much to do in his cell _but_ memorize the guard’s schedule.

 “Well in that case!” A blinding light shone from the back of the group and Percy had to cover his face again, this time from the brightest light he had seen since incarceration.

“Tiberius!”

“What? Its pitch black down here. I know you half-elfs can see in the dark but if I run into one more bloody wall I’m going to–”

“Ok Tibs, we get it.” The first figure said, irritated now.

Percy lowered his hands, squinting at the group before him. He almost laughed again. They were quite a motley bunch. Two gnomes, a dragonborn, a goliath, and three half-elves, it was like the start to a bad joke Julius liked to tell. However, they seemed….. for lack of a better word, unified, comfortable, despite their dichotomy.

A man, a half-elf from the ears he could just see peeking out between his raven locks and the dark fabric of the hood, stood in the very front. His nose was upturned and his brows low but his eyes glinted out from under them in a roguish twinkle. He was the one who had first spoken to him, now grinning mischievously. The features were mirrored by the women to his left (although the smile was more smug) who bore a striking resemblance. Percy guessed they were siblings, and judging by the elegant recurved bow on her back, she was the second figure. Although their faces were so very similar, her countenance was more elegant, sharper and more poised. The two gnomes were starkly different. One was dressed in flamboyant entertainer’s grab, the other in heavy male, bearing a holy symbol upon her bright shield. The large man (was Grog his name?), a goliath, who had single handedly removed the door, stood near the back of the motley group, next to a tall, slender half-elf in green and brown leather, red hair cascading down from a crown of natural elements. The welder of the dazzling light that was still making his eyes smart as they tried to adjust, was a red scaled dragonborn, ornate robes sweeping down to the floor where it skimmed his clawed feet.

Despite all the odd characters before him, Percy kept finding his eyes drawn to the two half-elves closest. Twins, they must be. There was something captivating about them. The way they shifted in the small cell denoting power, a mighty animal ready to fly. They were utterly irresistible.

The half-elf man reached out to shake Percy’s hand. “I’m Vax.”

Percy cleared his throat, “who the bloody hell are you people?” His voice came out surprisingly rough.

Vax smiled, “we’re the S.H.I.T.s.”

***

Things had turned around after that. Certain things become easier, things he wouldn’t have thought important. Sleeping was still hard, but at least he could catch some shut eye without worrying who would stab him in the back while he slept. The dreams were less frequent. That in and of itself was worth traveling with them.

They did some good too, The S.H.I.T.s.  The group later renamed themselves Vox Machina instead, much to both his relief and disappointment. They did some good in the land and that made Percy feel….. if not quite happy, at least more content than he had for a while.

However, in the play of his life, irony seem to own center stage, drudging up drama when the pace became too smooth. He wasn't sure if new developments would be classified as tragedy or comedy. He might as well be a walking tragicomedy, if he ever saw one.

He had thought both of them handsome. Of course, he didn’t realize this until later. Hindsight was nigh omniscient. Over time the moments he had taken to sneak looks at Vex, to admire how well she could shoot, how well she could persuade others to her side, began to lose the amorous glow they once had. As he came to know her he realized that they were terribly similar. Vex liked to think, she liked to view a situation from as many angles as possible before making a decision, and she liked to be in control. Percy was the same. It was no wonder they become thick as thieves.

Vax on the other hand was an infuriating bastard with enough dry wit to kill a bear (sorry trinket). He was impulsive, overconfident and obnoxiously self-sacrificing. All faults that Percy found utterly annoying in an amusing way. At least, he had seen them as faults at first.

The strange thing, the thing that threw everything into disarray was that the magnetism that he had felt originally from both twins, did not fade from Vax. At first, Percy had dismissed the attraction as a side effect of the twins looking so very similar. However, as time went on, he realized that it was the opposite. A man. He thought a man more attractive than a women.

It weighed on him. An unanswered question. Or perhaps an unquestioned answer? He wasn't sure anymore. Of course, in the preceding months after this realization, Percy had slowly built a wall around the problem with mental bricks of uncertainty and mortar of cowardice. It was easier to ignore than to deal with. That, he had to admit, was his standard policy for any kind of difficult emotional struggle. He had known it was only a temporary solution. The fragility of it only became apparent almost one year since he had left the foul, wet dungeon in Sillben.

***

“Shit,” Percy’s finger tightened on the trigger of Bad News.

_Blam blam_

The recoil rocked him back on the flying carpet, almost dumping him out five feet below to the sickly pulsating brain below. He managed to find his footing in time to see the corpse of Clarota slump to the ground. The back of his head was missing, blasted open by Bad News, spilling gore across the dark stone of the temple.

God. This was a mess. Vox Machina ran helter-skelter below, trying to delay the illuthid swarming the up the sides and bowels of the temple. Tiberius seemed to have a plan at least, Percy hoped to high heaven, Pelor, Sarenrae, whoever was listening, that this plan turned out to be one of the more feasible ones.

Down below, Vax threw dagger after dagger at the Elder Brain. Good idea, weaken them, keep them on the defensive. Vax spun, slashed at the hideous gray matter, and then sprang upwards, hoisting himself onto the carpet with practiced ease beside Percy. In the same fluid action, he pulled Percy over, hand on his far cheek and planted a swift kiss on his other.

“Let’s get out of here you bastard!” He laughed, eyes dancing and smile all teeth.

Percy could feel the rush of his heartbeat in his ears.

***

His bedroom at Grayskull Keep was exactly the same as he had left it. It was a mess, by his standards at least. The bedding was hanging half on the floor and various items of clothing were draped over the headboard and back of the desk chair. He could see black soot on the floor and the bed where he had collapsed for a few hours of fleeting, restless slumber during the week preceding their journey to Whitestone.

It was a mess from what seemed like a lifetime ago.

There really was never any time to rest. They had been back in Emon for a day and they had already faced off against the clasp, caught a traitor, and already some of them were drunk. Mostly Keyleth…. only Keyleth actually. He might have offered her a few too many. He never thought of himself as a highly moral man anyway. Vax fit that archetype better, at least, in his own way.

Vax.

Shit.

Percy began cleaning, draping clothes across his arm, smoothing out the bedding. This was a new start, with a new history, with a restored home. ….With family that was alive, and ….friends that had his back. They had their name cleared now, Emon welcomed them again, and things would be easier again.

Percy felt a small smile form on the corners of his mouth at the faint sounds traveling through the closed door of loud talking and merrymaking from Dr. Dranzel’s Spectacular Traveling Troupe and the rest of Vox Machina… or, as he still privately called them, The S.H.I.T.s.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So many notes, so little time.  
> Firstly, I won’t be able to update this fic as frequently as I have been. You can probably count on a chapter every other month. Hopefully more frequently than that, we’ll have to see.  
> Secondly, I feel it necessary to explain why Percy is surprised when he realizes he’s more attracted to Vax then Vex. As Mercer alluded to, there are areas of Exandria where people are more accepting and open… and then there’s places where they’re not. Whitestone, in my personal headcanon, is one of the places where being gay/bi/pan/etc. is not really acknowledged. So when Percy realizes he likes Vax more than would be acceptable in his home, he’s not 100% sure how to deal with it/think about it.  
> Anyway, I hope you’ve enjoyed what I have so far, thank you for sticking with this. Hopefully the next chapter will be forthcoming in a timely fashion.


	5. Sudden

Breakfast after their return was a light-hearted affair. Although it was slightly tarnished by Dr. Dranzel’s Spectacular Traveling Troupe, there was still plenty of food for all. Well, mostly for Grog.

Vax leaned over the table “how the fuck did you fit all those eggs in your mouth at the same time?”

Grog shrugged, cheeks puffed up with hard-boiled eggs, half of one slipping from his half open mouth to land with a plop and a spray of crumbly yoke on the table.

“Ew, that’s absolutely disgusting.” Keyleth piped up from the other side of the table while she furiously buttered toast. “Percy, stop hogging the jam, it's mulberry. I thought you hated mulberry.”

“I don't hate mulberry. I simply don't think it the end all and be all of jarred fruit,” Percy said as he chased the last of his scrambled eggs around his plate with a bit of toast.

“Hey Kiki, you think we could talk again maybe?” Vax said, snatching the jam from beside Percy’s elbow. “We haven't really talked since Winter's Crest.”

“Oh, I -um, didn't we have a bunch of places to be today? I thought we had a bunch of places to be. And you know, I've been rethinking the garden, like, it's arrangement, so I've got that. Wasn't there a speech thing?”

“Oh c’mon, the garden’s perfect, you planted it after all -” Vax started.

Percival interrupted, standing swiftly from the table, toast in hand. “I must head down to my workshop if we're going to leave anytime soon, good morning to you all.” Then he was gone.

Vax opened his mouth to continue-

“You know, I should probably go swing by -uh, the temple. See you guys.” Keyleth also departed.

Vax made to stand but a sudden iron grip on his wrist nailed him to the table. “You're staying,” Vex hissed in his ear.

Thankfully she waited until everyone was gone before she went off. Vex slapped her other hand down on the table with a definite smack, shaking the leftover clutter of breakfast. A cup of tea toppled over, spilling liquid onto a plate of half eaten potatoes.

“Watch’a sis. Don't lose a fingernail.”

“I'm so fucking sick of your bullshit,” Vex hissed, hand snapping from table to the space right in front of his face.

“Vex’ahlia…..”

She shook her finger right before his nose. “No! You always do this shit! You always do this and I'm left to pick up after you. I'm done brother.”

Vax leaned away and crossed his arms before raising a single eyebrow. “Calm down. Why are you in such a tizzy all of a sudden?”

“Because of you and your stupid crush on Keyleth! Because you think that because you’re sure she makes the sun rise in the West and set in the East, your fucking epic romance is meant to be. News flash brother, it doesn't. She isn't interested. She wants to be part of the _group_ , not in the private Vax and angst party.”

Vax once again opened his mouth to reply.

“I'm still talking _brother,”_ Vex interjected forcefully. _“_ You don't know that though, you've never asked. Well I did. Consider that enough sister intervention for one mess.”

“That's not fair.” Vax was indignant. He'd cleaned up plenty of his own messes thank you very much.

“That’s not all either brother,” Vex continued ruthlessly. “This is all shitty, yes, but what really makes me angry is that you were off in emotional dreamland when we were all facing the Briarwoods. It was hard on all of us, Especially Percy. Vax, I thought we agreed to try. I thought we agreed to try to make Vox Machina work. This is the closest we've had to family since….” Vex faltered momentarily and Vax could feel the memories thick in the air for a moment. “...Since mom. I don't want to lose them. I'm not going to.”

“....Vex.”

“Just. Just wake up and smell the smoke brother. You may find that what you are looking for already exists.”

With one last evil glare at her brother, and another spilled tea cup, Vex flounced out of the dining hall. Vax stared after her in awe. What the hell had that been about? She was way too worked up about everything he decided.

It took him a few minutes of seething to realize how much of a hypocrite he was for that last thought. He decided in the end that she might have at least one point buried in her tirade. Deep, deep, deep in her tirade.


	6. My Apologies

unfortunately I've lost interest in this fic. I don't plan on continuing it but I will tell you roughly what I had planned so that I don't leave anyone in the lurch.

 

The plan was for Vax to take a few chapters to realize that he was just idolizing Keyleth and elevating her unhealthfully. 

Percy meanwhile would just be being very angsty and not sleeping and taking risks.

They would eventually confess and realize they loved each other during the conversation they have at the Locke where the Raven Queen's vestige is, leaving the question of how their relationship would turn out post Vex's death up in the air.

 

Once again, I'm so sorry for just dropping this fic, but with the path that Critical Role has taken and my personal interests shifting, it was sort of inevitable.


End file.
